Finding a Home Within the Heart
by zerogravityganja
Summary: Isaac has been through a lot. He doesn't think there is anything wrong with him, but the courts that took him from his dad's custody would disagree. He's required to go to therapy a couple times a week. It doesn't seem to help much until he realizes that it might be the only safe place for him to try and be himself. Will Isaac ever find somewhere to call home or someone to care?


Isaac had been living with the Peterson's for the better part of two months now. It still didn't feel real though. He constantly felt as though he was walking through a cloud, his limbs heavy and his heart hollow. There was limited and meaningless interaction between him and his foster parents. Lindsey was a nice woman, but she was fragile. Isaac wasn't sure what her deal was, but she existed behind a false sense of joy and an endless supply of Valium. She didn't work, but instead spent most of her days conked out in her bedroom upstairs. Her husband Lyle seemed distant. He was rarely home and when he was he would make it known how unhappy he was. He complained about Lindsey being home everyday doing nothing when the house always looked like shit. Isaac was pretty positive he was having an affair with his secretary. Perhaps that's why Mrs. Peterson felt the need to self medicate herself into a coma everyday.

Honestly he didn't really mind that he was more or less just a silent presence in the household. He spent the better part of his life trying to be invisible and now he was.

"Isaac, are you ready to go?" Mrs. Peterson asked sweetly, her smile never reaching her glossy eyes.

Isaac sighed and lifted himself from his bed, abandoning his homework which was strewn all about, but barely touched. He just couldn't get himself to focus enough to complete any of it. His grades were still in the B and C range but they were steadily dropping. He was having trouble sleeping and his attention seemed to be anywhere but on his school work. It was becoming a bit of an issue, but his foster family didn't seem to notice.

"Yes." He replied simply. In all honesty he had no desire to go anywhere. The court system required that Isaac attend a one-on-one and group therapy with some Dr. Deaton. He was, to say the least, less than thrilled.

The car ride was a short one, about fifteen minutes of Mrs. Peterson idly chatting about things that didn't matter. Isaac never responded to anything she said. He knew she wasn't looking for mutual conversation, she just needed something to fill the silence.

Once they arrived Mrs. Peterson let him out at the front door with the promise to be back in an hour. She never went inside with him, she'd never even met Dr. Deaton. Whatever though, he didn't care. He didn't care about much these days.

Isaac walked in the building and stopped in front of the elevator. He did this every week, it was almost like a ritual. Deaton's office was on the third floor so to go up he had to take the elevator. Well, he wanted to, it would be easier. It would be the normal thing to do. He never did make it passed that sliding door though. He would usually break into a small sweat, whip himself around and take the stairs in a hurry.

This time was no different and by the time he got to his floor he was breathing heavily from running up several flights of stairs. He took just a moment to take in several deep breaths in an attempt to better compose himself before he walked through the door at the end of the hall, taking a seat as he waited for Dr. Deaton to come collect him. It was only a few minutes before the door to his office opened and Deaton was saying goodbye to another of his patients. It was a kid from Isaac's group sessions. Stiles, he called himself. He was pretty sure he went to the same school too, but he had no interest in making friends with him so he didn't much care.

Stiles waved goodbye to Isaac, giving him a wink and a thumbs up as he left. Isaac rolled his eyes and stood to follow Deaton into his office. Isaac took the same seat as usual, tucking his large frame into the corner of the couch sitting parallel to Dr. Deaton's desk. He watched with calculating eyes as Deaton went to shut the door behind him. Isaac felt a lot of the tension leave his body though as the door was left ajar. Deaton knew how uncomfortable it made him, how it made him feel trapped.

"So…" The doctor started as he took his own seat, swiveling it around to face the boy. "usually we spend this allotted time in silence, here and in group. I can't keep allowing you to bottle up your feelings though Isaac."

Isaac frowns at this change in his routine. Typically the doctor waits patiently for Isaac to open up on his own time while Isaac simply waits patiently for the minute hand to travel all the way around the clock. This is a new development and he doesn't much like it.

"Your social worker is worried that you might be close to a breakdown. She's suggesting maybe committing you to Eichen House Isaac." Dr. Deaton leans forward as though he's trying to gage what kind of reaction he'll have to this news.

He doesn't react though because he doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything.

Deaton sighs and leans back again, folding his hands in his lap. "Isaac, you might think you don't care, but you're wrong. You'd be living in a room a bit smaller than this. They would lock the door every night. While I don't feel like you're making any progress here, I feel like you could only digress in that kind of environment."

Isaac still says nothing, but he can feel the tension returning to his bones and his heartbeat has spiked at the prospect of spending the rest of his life medicated and locked up in a nut house.

After taking a deep breath Deaton speaks again. "I know you've been having nightmares. Mr. Peterson called to tell me that you wake the house screaming sometimes."

Isaac can't help but to scoff. He knows what the doc says is true. He's woken several times during the middle of the night with terror seeping from his pores and a scream dying off as he comes back into awareness. He finds it irritating that Mr. Peterson called Deaton to bitch about it, but never once has he been woken from his night terrors or even so much as confronted about it.

"Talk to me about it. I can't keep you out of the Eichen House if you don't talk to me. We can start smaller if you like, but I need something. You've got to work with me here Isaac. I only have your best interest in mind." He says it with sincerity, but Isaac has real trouble in believing him to be true.

Finally Deaton lets silence fill the room, being hopeful that Isaac will say something. Isaac mulls it over for a moment before he relents. His fear of being locked in small places outweighing his discomfort of talking.

"I miss him." He says it quietly, his eyes cast towards the floor, but he means it. God does he mean it. It's a small statement, but it packs a punch.

"He was your father, you love him as such. It's understandable, but you do understand why you had to be removed from his custody don't you?" Doctor Deaton asks gently.

Isaac thinks it over for a moment, he's never really considered that question before. "I wish…I hadn't been taken away, that he wasn't in prison." The answer almost takes him by surprise, but he schools his features. He still won't meet the doctor's eyes, but he can imagine the look of confusion on his face.

"Isaac…" He says it slowly as though he's talking to a wounded animal. "what your father did to you was nothing short of a torturous conditioning. He locked you in a freezer." Isaac flinches at that statement, but Deaton continues on. "He beat you and made you feel less than human. Isaac when they found you, you were barely breathing. He could have killed you if you had been in that house any longer."

Isaac can feel a bead of sweat slide down his brow. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore. No one understands. No one knows that his father loved him. He just wanted him to be the best version of himself that he could be. He was trying to help. He knows what his dad did was wrong, but he also knows that his dad did it out of love.

"You're wrong." He expects his voice to break, but it comes out strong and with conviction.

"Isaac…" Dr. Deaton doesn't have time to finish his sentence. Isaac stands abruptly, he's breathing heavily and his fists are clenched tightly by his sides. He doesn't know what he's doing, he's knows he wants out though. He doesn't wasn't to be here anymore. He expects Deaton to yell at him, tell him to sit down or he'll call for security. He doesn't though.

"Isaac, why are you making fists? Do you wish to hit me?" Isaac jerks back in surprise. No. He doesn't want to hit him, he doesn't want to hit anyone. It hurts when you get hit, why would he want to make someone feel what he had felt for years?

"No…I…" His whole demeanor has changed now. His shoulders are slumped, hands slack, expression drawn with grief. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…."

He falls back into the couch, clutching his head. "Isaac, it's okay to be angry and to feel overwhelmed. You've been through a lot in a short amount of time. You've lost a lot." Deaton is trying to reassure him, but it does little to help. Isaac wished he hadn't said anything. He's brought back emotions that he has spent a lot of time trying to bury.

"My time is up." Isaac knows simply because he heard the door open in the waiting room signaling that the next patient is ready.

Deaton sighs, he does that a lot where Isaac is concerned. "Yes, it seems as though it is. I'll see you tomorrow for group okay?"

Isaac removes his head from his hands and moves to stand, but before he leaves Deaton has one more thing to say. "Isaac, remember what I said. You did really good today, but you'll have to start sharing in group as well. I don't want to see you go downhill and that's surely what will happen if you go to Eichen House. So please, we'll work on this together okay?"

Isaac doesn't even turn around, he just pauses at the door long enough to hear him out and then he leaves. There's a girl in the waiting room. She too is from group, he thinks her name is Allison. She gives him a small smile as they pass each other, but he offers her barely a glance in her direction. He has no desire to make connections with people. They'll just leave anyway.

After facing off with the elevator and taking the stairs he's startled to see that it's Mr. Peterson that is waiting to pick him up. He finds this odd because of the two months that he's been attending these appointments it's always Mrs. Peterson that takes him to and from.

He gets into the car, his breath catches in his throat when Mr. Peterson immediately locks the doors and turns to him, not even taking the car out of park. "Look kid," He never refers to him by his name. "it's come to my attention that you're practically just skating by on my dime. I've got one free loader in my house already, I don't need two. So…I think it's only fair that you start picking up the slack."

Isaac's palms are getting sweaty. He doesn't know what's being asked of him. Mr. Peterson takes his silence as defiance. He grabs Isaac by the chin and jerks his head around to face him. Isaac feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. This is not something he had anticipated, nothing in the past two months had prepared him for this confrontation. This is part of the reason he missed being with his dad. At least with him he always knew what to expect.

"Are you listening to me boy? I'm not going to put up with your broody teenage behavior anymore. You're going to start answering when spoken to. You're going to start taking care of chores around the house and you're going to get your head out of your ass so help me god." When all Isaac does is stare wide eyed at the man before him, he gets a light smack to the back of the head. It doesn't hurt, but it sets off warning bells in his head.

"Speak when spoken to remember?" Mr. Peterson says incredulously.

"Yeah, yeah okay." Isaac sounds detached even to his own ears. He's not sure how to handle this new development, but Mr. Peterson seems satisfied with his answer because he starts up the car and drives back to the house like they didn't just have that conversation.

When they walk through the front door Isaac plans to go and attempt to finish his homework. Mr. Peterson has different ideas though. He grabs Isaac by his forearm and pulls him into the living room. "Did you seriously just forget the conversation we just had? Clean this place up." He pushes Isaac forward making him stumble. "When I get back from work I expect this place to sparkle. You get me?" He says with a raised eyebrow.

Isaac is surprised to feel a hot anger bubbling just beneath his skin. Mr. Peterson is talking to him as though he's an incompetent imbecile and it's pissing him off. He swallows his pride though and gets about cleaning. He only sees Mrs. Peterson once and that's when she comes down stairs to grab a bottle of wine. She gives him a chaste smile, but never questions as to why he's on his hands and knees picking up pieces of discarded fast food trash. Needless to say Mrs. Peterson never cooks.

By the time Mr. Peterson gets home from work it's near midnight. Isaac had hung up the towel and called it a night about an hour ago. He was lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as sleep alluded him once again when his bedroom door is thrown open. He shoots up into a sitting position. The sound of the door hitting the wall an all too familiar sound. Mr. Peterson wastes no time in grabbing Isaac, dragging him out of bed so fast he doesn't even have time to get his feet underneath himself. The next thing he knows he's being tossed on the floor like a rag doll. Isaac is a big kid, but Peterson is bigger. He looms over Isaac with a menacing presence. That's when Isaac sees it. His pupils are blown, he's sweating profusely, and the dead give away…is the small trace of white powder that lingers around his nostrils.

"I told you that this place better fucking sparkle when I get back. You cleaned up the living room and the downstairs bathroom. Good for you kid, but I expected the rest of this place to be spick and span as well. Get to it and be quick cause I can't have you missing school tomorrow morning." He's talking so fast Isaac swears he's going to bite his tongue. "Well don't just sit there, get to work!" He throws his arms out in an exasperated gesture that causes Isaac to flinch. Mr. Peterson catches his movement and chuckles to himself as he leaves to lock himself away in his study.

Isaac sits on the floor for a minute longer, angry at the position in which he's found himself. With a sigh he pops up to his feet and begins cleaning the kitchen. There's not a counter that isn't mounted high with dishes. He's definitely got his work cut out for him.


End file.
